Article on the musical, theatrical, and benefit seasons

“The ends of the theatrical seasons have a bad side: the repertoire is worn out; the artists become familiar to the public and with the pubic;—and reciprocally; amusing or facetious scenes don’t move or amuse anymore; wit, on the one hand, and taste, on the other, are dulled; the sun fades into a realm of cast-offs; in brief, actors and audience ask themselves, mutually, always the same ones face to face, if it won’t go [away] soon . . . ‘leave it alone’ as Gavroche [in les Misérables] says. They’ve seen each other so much and they’ve loved each other so much that they have it in for one another, like some suitably matched spouses in whose home an affection without unpleasantness—but also without passion—survives the honeymoon. That’s what the end of the theater season is. . . . A good family that can’t feel itself any more, and that doesn’t have anything lively left except the strokes of the pen in the [marriage] contract.

“There is nevertheless also a good side. It’s that when the regular season goes away, the season of Benefits begins. Now, the Benefit season inevitably brings back a revival of spirit on the part of the artists and the audience. It’s like what you’d call in France ‘St. Martin’s summer,’ and here the Indian summer of success. During this blessed period, the actors regain their energy, the audience does up its fellow feeling again, the theater bestows its best pieces, the set designer refreshes his backdrops and his scenery; the costume-designer puts the false hems and the new frills on the skirts, and the two sides of the footlights simper at each other, as in the good old days when they still loved each other without liability. They don’t compromise each other by giving themselves up to effusions that are too accentuated; they know it won’t be for long and they’re content to attest to their mutual contentment with the past without engaging each other in anything for the future. It’s absolutely like the celebration of a fiftieth anniversary in good marriages.

“So we’ve entered in full earnest and complete joy into the season of Benefits. Here are three of them, one after another at the Théâtre Francais; Carrier three weeks ago, Juignet last week, Beckers this week. We’ll soon have that of Mlle Desclauzas, when the troupe returns from the month-long tour that they’re going to make in the provinces. But that’s still a faraway promise and it will be time to talk about it at length when the moment arrives. We’ll have, between then and now, another celebration which will be rung from all the bells in the city, that’s Tostée’s Benefit, a long-awaited event that will be as solemn as if it could be an apotheosis. And as well we must believe, it’s not at the little hall on Fifth Avenue that the ceremony will take place; you’d have to ram [them in] with blows of a mallet like [at the] mouth of a mine to even let in a quarter of the crowd that will run to the doors; it’s to the Academy that they’ll go, and this Thursday, that’s eight days from today; no more than a week. The program isn’t set yet, but you can be sure it will be attractive.

“All that they know is that for the first time Tostée, who is as great a musician as she is a comedienne, will play the piano in public in New York. And also that for the first time in New York the two stars who light up M. Birgfield’s [sic] blue sky, Tostée and Irma, will perform together in the same piece. That will be a matchless feast. There’ll be a long line of carriages that night in 24th Street.

“Birgfield’s [sic] candy-box is nevertheless very fashionable and is full every night. As you know, they give a new production there every evening, and experience has proved the correctness of our forecast, to know that the proportion of the frame gives value to the picture. There are some scenes and some entire acts that you’d be tempted to believe [are] altogether new, they’re so different, condensed, than what you’ve seen spun out. Saturday, at the matinée, the hall was more than full; they claimed there were fourteen hundred people; it’s not possible, but it’s true . . . unless the enthusiasts had counted double in mistaking the reflections in the plate glass that envelops the parquet and loges on all sides for faraway inhabitants.

"It’s almost decided today that the 24th Street hall, or rather the Fifth Avenue Theater, as they call it, will remain the home of the Operetta, that is light music, French gaiety translated into oompahs, the art of song into champagne. A little comedy wouldn’t spoil anything as a seasoning. Perhaps they’ll truly have some: M. Birgfield [sic] is certainly capable of making this present to his audience, and he’d easily be able to find the elements for it in his troupe, which, we’re sure of it, would quite willingly give him this diversion from time to time. M. Birgfield [sic] has already found success in the good idea of varying the show; we’re convinced that he wouldn’t lose anything by verying the genre a bit, and everyone would be thankful to him for it. In any case, it wouldn’t cost him anything to try.

“It will do so much better that the Théâtre Francais will be the French Theater in name only. They’ll perform the Opéra Anglais there starting next October.

It’s true that the English Opera is still, for a good part of it at least, if we look at the programme, the Opéra Francais-- without the French. We see, in effect, figuring in the announced repertoire Fra Diavolo, Les Diamants de la Couronne, Bonsoir Monsieur Pantalon, [that has] become Doctor of Alcantara, La Fille du Régiment, Le Mariage de Figaro, Le Domino Noir and Le Cheval de Bronze. All translated and sung in English, by English or American artists under the musical direction of the celebrated Italian singer, Mme Parepa Rosa…”